CHAPTER XXXVIII. IN THE HOUSE.

Meanwhile, Walter was standing there in pitch darkness, utterly at a loss what to do next. He had no light to guide him. He had not the remotest idea in which direction the door lay. He took a step or two forward, with outstretched hands, until his ringers touched the wall. There were so many unfamiliar objects here that it was some little time before he felt his way with his finger-tips to the door. He found it at length, and the knob yielded to his touch. No sooner was he in the corridor than a dazzling flash confused and mystified him. Before he could realise what had happened the light was gone, and a pair of strong, sinewy arms were about his neck. He was taken utterly at a disadvantage. Walter swayed backwards. He fell with a resounding crash on the floor. A million stars danced before his eyes, and then he remembered no more.

When he came to himself again he was lying in an armchair, to which he was fastened by a maze of cords, wound cunningly about him. As his head became clear and less confused, he realised that he was in a kind of library, the walls of which were lined with books. Opposite him Silva was seated, with a placid smile upon his face.

"I think we have met before," he said.

"I have had that advantage," Walter said grimly. "And now you will, perhaps, be good enough to explain what you mean----"

"No," Silva hissed. A sudden anger flamed out of his eyes. "On the other hand, the explanation comes from you. For the time being, at any rate, this house is mine. I have paid for it, and I propose to spend my time quietly here for the next month or two. I am hardly settled down here before you come along in this unceremonious fashion and burgle the place. Why?"

"That you know quite as well as I do," Walter retorted. "Really, you are a man of amazing audacity. Now don't you know that the law punishes people severely for this kind of thing?"

"And what kind of thing do you allude to?"

"Why should you assume ignorance in that way? You know perfectly well what I mean. To my certain knowledge you have made three attempts on the life of Lord Ravenspur, and even that does not seem to be sufficient. Last night you managed to lure Miss Vera Rayne away from London, and she is in this house at the present moment. That she is detained here against her will I feel certain."

"Oh, indeed," Silva sneered. "Would you like to search the house? If I give you permission to go over the premises, will you be prepared to apologise and go away without further delay?"

A cold chill crept up Walter's spine. The man spoke with such an air of confidence and triumph that Walter began to feel that the mission had failed. Beyond all question, Silva had discovered the plot, and already he had managed to get Vera out of the way. The Italian could not be acting. His air was too assured for that.

"We need not say anything about apologies," Walter said; "but if you can prove to me that Miss Rayne is not in the house, why, then, for the present, at any rate, I will not trouble you."

"That is very good of you," Silva sneered. He rose from his chair and paced up and down the room. "You have seen quite enough of me, sir, to give me credit for not being altogether a fool. That was a very pretty scheme which you put up this morning. And, really, your disguises were quite artistic. I will go so far as to say that, in ordinary circumstances, they would have utterly puzzled me; but, then, I am suspicious by nature. I regard it as more than a coincidence that three strangers should come into my garden the very morning after I had----"

"Abducted Miss Rayne," Walter said, as Silva hesitated. "Why make any bones about it? We know that Miss Rayne came here. We, on our side, are not altogether without intelligence."

"You are worthy antagonists," Silva said, with a sarcastic bow. "We will assume, for the sake of argument, that Miss Rayne was here this morning, though, mark you, I do not admit it. Then, three strangers come and make free with my garden. It is possible, of course, that they are telling the truth, and that they are honest men, devoted to the interests of their country. But, at the same time, I asked myself a question. Then I followed these gentlemen, and by the time I returned home I had a pretty shrewd idea who they were and what they were after. How my suspicions are justified is proved by your presence here this evening. Did you come alone?"

"That you must discover for yourself," Walter said.

The Italian's features suddenly darkened. He paused so close to Walter that the latter could see the dilation of the pupils of his eyes. He shook with a spasm of fury.

"I have no quarrel with you," he whispered hoarsely. "You are a fine fellow, and I give you all the credit for your courage. But if you persist in bringing yourself within the sphere of danger, then you must take the consequences. Do you suppose for a moment that I am afraid of my own life? Do you suppose that I care what happens when my mission is accomplished? That mission is sacred to me as your good name and religion are sacred to you. A man is to be removed, and when he is out of the way my task is done. There is a proverb amongst you English that it is as well to be hung for a sheep as a lamb, and no man can hang more than once, though he has a dozen murders to his account. Therefore, if you stand in the way, I shall have no hesitation in sweeping you aside. Now go away and trouble me no more. You will never see Miss Rayne again. In a few hours from now she will be in the custody of the proper person to safeguard her interests--her mother."

A retort trembled on Walter's lips, but he restrained himself.

"I am going to give you every opportunity," Silva went on. "I trust to your honour. See here."

He whipped a knife from his pocket, and just for a second Walter's courage was tried high; but the Italian meant no harm. He advanced and cut the cords, so that a moment later Walter was free. It was impossible for the latter to know what was going on in the mind of his companion. He did not know that a sudden inspiration had come to Silva, and that the Italian had changed his mind. For the first few minutes Valdo had recognised that he stood in a position of considerable peril. Though he had suspected his visitors of the early morning, he was lying to Walter when he declared that he had discovered their identity. It was easy to be wise after the fact, and Silva was taking every advantage of it. In his heart of hearts he really had not expected anything quite so prompt as this. He could now see his danger. If Walter was alone, then so far so good; but if there were others outside the house, then Silva was more or less in a trap. The others might rush in at any moment and hand him over to the police. Once in their hands, his fate was certain. He would be charged with those attempts on the life of Lord Ravenspur. In all probability he would be sentenced to a term of imprisonment, which would result in his death within the walls of a gaol.

But now, as time was going on, and there was no sign of disturbance outside, Silva began to feel that he had only one man to deal with. It would not be a difficult matter to persuade Walter and to prove to him that Vera was no longer in the house, and the cunning Italian knew perfectly well that his skin was safe until Lord Ravenspur and the others were satisfied that the girl had come to no harm.

"We are on even terms again now," Silva went on. "In fact, the odds are in your favour. I am not armed, and you are a stronger man than myself. If you will wait a few moments I will go and get a candle, and then you shall see for yourself that Miss Rayne is not in the house."

"I am sorry," Walter said coldly; "but I should prefer to accompany you. Your word is hardly sufficient."

Silva's eyes flashed, but he said nothing. The silence was getting awkward when, at length, the Italian spoke once more.

"There is a candle outside on the landing," he said. "I will go and fetch it. You will be able to see me all the way there and back. You English are suspicious."

Silva threw the door wide open and strode out into the corridor. As he struck a match and lighted the candle, Walter could dimly see up the next flight of stairs. It was only for a moment, but he distinctly saw the outline of a figure there, and a signal made by the waving of a white arm. It was with difficulty that he repressed a cry. He now knew that the Italian had been lying to him, and that Vera was in the house. When he glanced up again the figure had vanished, and Walter dropped into the easy chair again. It seemed to him that there was something in the signal which bade him to be cautious. Otherwise, what was to prevent Vera coming down the stairs and appealing to Walter for his protection?

Silva was, apparently, a long time getting the candle to burn to his satisfaction. He seemed to be occupied in his task to the exclusion of everything else. But there was a queer smile upon his face, for he had turned in an unfortunate moment, and his quick eye had detected the figure at the top of the stairs. In those few seconds he had made up his mind what to do. When he came back into the library again there was something like a smile on his face. He placed the candle on the table.

"And now, sir," he said almost gaily, "before I proceed to satisfy you that your suspicions are unfounded, permit me to offer you my hospitality. I don't know how you feel, but you look rather shaken, and I must apologise for the way in which I threw you a little time ago; but you see, the average burglar is by no means a welcome guest, and he has no right to expect to be received with open arms. I must insist upon your accompanying me as far as the dining-room, so that I may give you a glass of wine."

Walter hesitated, but only for a moment. He was feeling more shaken and battered than he cared to own. Every now and again things grew misty before his eyes, a feeling of deadly faintness came upon him. It seemed hours since he entered the house, though little more than ten minutes had elapsed. He knew, too, that he had a great fight before him yet with this wily unscrupulous rascal. Silva must have some great card up his sleeve, or he would not have so gaily denied that Vera was in the house, when all the time she was close at hand. On the whole, Walter decided that he would be all the better for accepting Silva's offer.

"That is very thoughtful of you," he said. "I shall be very glad of a stimulant of some kind."

Once in the dining-room, Silva took a decanter from the sideboard and poured out a glass of port. Walter took it almost greedily and gulped it down at a draught. The wine seemed to soothe him. He sank down in a chair with his hands over his eyes, and, before he knew where he was, he had sunk into a deep sleep. As Silva bent over the unconscious body a hoarse laugh broke from his lips. Then something seemed to sting and burn his cheek. He started back, to see Vera standing before him.

"You scoundrel!" she cried. "You have murdered him!"

In her anger she cast all fear aside. She caught up a heavy decanter from the sideboard and sent it crashing through the window. The whole house rang with her cries for assistance.